Chapter 3

The limo drove off smoothly, heading for downtown.

“Sam, I can’t tell you how much this night has meant to me,” said Brad. “I thought I’d lost you forever, and that you hated me too much to even put eyes on me. Can you ever forgive me for how stupid I was back then?”

“I’m already working on it,” she said, leaning against him. “Take me home.”

Brad picked up the phone and called up to George. “Jasmine is ready to go home George,” he said into the phone.

His daughter took the phone away from him. “His home, George,” she said curtly and hung the phone up. She turned to her father. “You bought me for the night,” she said.

Brad thought she was reminding him that she was a prostitute ... that in one way he was just another John to her. Saddened, he reached into his pocket and brought out a thousand dollars. He held it out. She took it and tucked it into her purse.

“I didn’t buy you at all,” he protested.

“Yes you did,” she said back, with no heat in her voice. “And the night’s not over yet.”

“I would love to talk to you some more,” he said.

“Talking is nice,” she responded.

George dropped them off at Brad’s hotel and, as he let them out, Brad saw that he had a small suitcase in his hand that he’d gotten from the trunk. As they approached the doorman, George handed the bag to the man. It soon became obvious that Jasmine was not only known there, but welcome as well. Brad wasn’t surprised to find that she knew the names of bellboys. One, by some signal unknown to Brad, hurried over to them as they approached the elevators.

Jasmine bestowed a glorious smile on him. “Bently, would you be so sweet as to see that a bottle of Dom Perignon is sent up to Mr. Tarkenton’s room? Oh, and a box of those lovely Maison du Chocolat ... chocolates.” She giggled. “Aren’t they the ones flavored with brandy?” Bently nodded smiling. “Thank you Bently. Oh, and one more thing. We’ll need a can of that whipped topping ... you know, the kind it’s fun to squirt in your mouth? And maybe a bowl of Andre’s cherry tart filling. Would you do that for me?” Brad was betting that “Andre” was the hotel’s five star chef, and that Jasmine was on a first name basis with him.

As for Bently, he would have jumped off a building for her, and it was obvious. He left at a flat out run.

In the hallway upstairs one of the maids even said, “Good evening Jasmine, it’s good to see you again.” The woman then sized up Brad, and nodded, though she didn’t say anything. Brad suddenly knew what it felt like to be the one under evaluation, and to wonder whether or not he’d made the cut. And from hotel staff! It was an odd feeling, but at the same time he realized that his daughter was considered to be a good judge of character, at least according to the ‘little people’ of the world. He ruefully admitted to himself that sometimes those ‘little people’ were the better at judging character than some of the movers and shakers.

Another bellboy appeared like magic with the bag George had handed to the doorman. The young man opened the door for them and entered, setting the bag on a low table. He fiddled with the thermostat and then bowed to the couple.

“You’re a sweet sweet boy, Jeremy,” said Jasmine. She kissed him on the forehead and the man, who had to be at least in his forties, left, a grinning idiot.

The door was no more than closed before Jasmine turned to her father and attacked his tie, untying it and pulling it from around his neck. Then she unbuttoned the stiff shirt, never worn before this night, opening it two buttons.

“I want you to be comfortable,” she said. “We have a lot to discuss. Now, if you’ll excuse me. I want to be comfortable too.

She picked up the bag off the table and disappeared into the bedroom. Brad hardly had time to wonder what she was doing in there when there was a discreet knock at the door. He opened it to find a cart with all the things she had asked for on it, pushed by Bently. He brought the cart in and opened the box of chocolates, putting them on display. While Bently poured two chilled glasses full of champagne and iced the bottle, Brad pulled out a hundred dollar bill. Bently made it disappear smoothly.

“I’ll have another bottle chilled and ready to bring up ... if you need it,” said Bently. He looked around, obviously looking for Jasmine. He was obviously disappointed that she wasn’t in the room.

Bently left and Brad turned to see the woman he still thought of as Samantha glide out of the bedroom. She had changed. There had been clothes in the bag.

Well, perhaps ‘clothes’ wasn’t the right word. Jasmine was now dressed in dark nylons, held up by a lavender garter belt. Over those were a pair of dark purple panties, above which there was a matching quarter cup bra that cradled her breasts, but did nothing to hide them. Over the whole outfit she wore a pale lavender jacket that had a representation of a dragon woven into it. The dragon, embroidered in shades of magenta that matched the bra and panties, wrapped around her body, with its head coming to rest on her left hip, as if it were guarding the treasure encased in the panties. She also had on high heels.

Brad instantly understood why Bently had been disappointed that she wasn’t in the room. He felt an ache in his groin that he tried unsuccessfully to banish. This was his daughter he was looking at. Then it struck him that this was his daughter, and that she knew who he was ... and had donned this outfit anyway.

“I must have grabbed the wrong bag,” she said, her hips rising and falling as she walked toward him. “I have different bags prepacked for different kinds of dates. I guess this will have to do. It doesn’t show too much more than the dress did, though, and you are my Daddy. It’s not like you’ve never seen me naked.”

Brad swallowed. Then again. He cleared his throat and had to cough. His mouth was dry as a bone. He lifted the champagne and took a sip. Then he could talk. “Fathers don’t usually get to see their daughters as naked as that.” He felt like a little boy, seeing his first naked woman.

“Well, it is more comfortable than that old dress,” she said, picking up a chocolate and biting it in half. “Mmmmm these are just divine,” she said, savoring the fine chocolate. “I meant to grab the other overnight bag ... the one with jeans and a sweatshirt in it. I hope you don’t mind that I got the wrong one.” She turned around, her hair flowing away from her body. The panties were actually a G-string and her pale buttocks were bare. When she faced him again her big brown eyes stared into Brad’s and he almost fell into them.

“It’s ... ah ... fine.” he blurted. He grabbed a chocolate and popped it in his mouth. Flavor burst in his mouth and he was startled. “Aren’t you chilly?” he asked. It looked like she had more skin showing than a fat man at a nude beach.

“Oh no. Jeremy turned up the thermostat. He knows just what temperature I like.” She looked at her father and stepped toward him. Her fingers went to his suit jacket and pushed it back, off his shoulders. She caught it deftly and flung it towards a chair. “You might get a little warm, though ... in all those hot clothes.”

Next her fingers went to his shirt buttons and he felt cool air caress his chest. He managed to get one hand up to stop her.

“Sam, what are you doing?”

“My name is Jasmine,” she said. “I’m doing my job.”

“I didn’t hire you to do this,” he said.

“What?” she pressed up against him and her arms went around his neck. “Julie told me to pack a bag.”

“Yes ... but I didn’t know it was going to be you,” he said.

“Well, I knew it was going to be you,” she said simply. She leaned in and kissed him full on the lips, just like she had done while they were dancing. Her tongue flitted deftly into his mouth, darting, teasing as she pressed her breasts into his chest.

Brad suddenly realized he was rock hard ... harder than he could remember being in years. He felt ... brittle. He felt her press her mons against his hardness.

“My therapist says I do what I do because I wanted your attention and couldn’t get it,” she said, her lips brushing his as the kiss ended. “But now I have your attention. Don’t you want to know if my therapist was right?” She kissed him again and it was a passionate kiss for both of them.

When it ended she breathed into his mouth, “I do.”

Brad didn’t know what to do. He had found his long lost daughter, whom he thought had hated him. She had hated him, but now she was here, offering herself. And he wanted her. His mind denied that, but his body betrayed that mind, screaming to touch her, caress her, possess her.

His yammering mind bubbled to the surface long enough for him to say “Jasmine ... Sam ... you don’t have to do this. I love you. I’ve always loved you. I just didn’t know how to show it. But you don’t have to do this to get me to love you. I already do.”

Her dark eyed stare, so close to his face, transmitted emotion almost like electricity. She licked his lips. “That just makes me want you even more,” she whispered.

She pushed him away and assaulted his shirt, shoving it down off his shoulders, like she had the suit coat. It hung up on his wrists, because the cuff links were still in place. That bound him, in a way, and he could do nothing as her nimble fingers went to the fastening of his suit pants. He felt cool air wash over his knees as his pants dropped to his ankles. He felt her fingers at the waistband of his briefs and sucked in his stomach automatically. But her fingers just slid down the sides of his underwear, off of them and onto his outer thighs as her hands dropped to remove his shoes and then drag the pants off his feet. Then he felt her fingers first at one sleeve and then the other, and he was free. While he shook off the shirt, her hands stripped his underwear down in one swift jerk.

Brad looked down to find his daughter staring at his erect cock. Her hands came up to cup his balls, and one hand stayed there, while the other drifted to encircle his shaft. She pulled his foreskin back off his glans and a bead of silver collected at the slit at the tip of his cock. As if it was in slow motion, Jasmine leaned forward and her tongue darted out to capture that bead, before sliding back into her mouth. Then she kissed the tip, like she had kissed his lips only moments before. She kissed his prick like she loved it ... adored it ... lived for it, cupping his balls like they were the last two eggs in the universe, and she wanted to protect them.

It was almost anticlimactical when her lipsticked lips slid over the head of his cock and she sucked gently, coaxing another dribble of precum out of his aching prick.

Events were beyond Brad’s control now. He felt helpless, and that terrified him in a way. He was a powerful man, who was always in control. But right then he could have been slaughtered by a child with a pocket knife, so incapable of movement was he. His whole universe centered on the warm mouth that was enveloping his penis.

“Ohhhhh, Saaaaammmm,” he groaned.

She pulled off his cock and stood up. “I don’t want you cumming too soon. You’re older now, and it might take a while to get you ready again. And I need you now Daddy. I need you to make me feel good way up inside me. She pulled him toward the bedroom, shedding the jacket, with its protective dragon. Her hand reached behind her and her bra went slack, She pushed him to the bed and, quicker than he would have believed possible removed the panties. She somehow pulled him down with her, on top of her, her thighs on either side of him. He felt the suspenders from the garter belt scraping his hips as she pulled him upward. His face went past perfect breasts and he had to taste, dropping his head to suckle one long hard nipple. It had some kind of flavoring agent on it ... orange ... no lime maybe ... something citrus-like. He was rewarded with her coo of enjoyment and her hands on the back of his head.

Then she was pulling at him again, getting him into position to claim her as a woman. He felt her hand on his hardness, and felt the tip dip into wet heat. There was no transition between that feel around the tip of his cock and his lunge that skewered her in one frictionless thrust that drove the tip of his prick into her cervix. Both of them made sounds that were at the same time agonized and joyful beyond belief. Brad felt like he was home. He could die this instant, and he wouldn’t mind. He was buried in a woman who wanted him for who he really was, rather than what he could do for her. It was the first time since Elizabeth that he had truly loved the woman who was sheathing his manhood in her welcoming pussy.

There was a period of time that night that was lost to Brad in many ways. He would always remember the feel of her skin against his, her voice in his ear, her fingernails digging into his buttocks and back. He would always remember the peculiar little series of high pitched yips she made as she approached her orgasm, but which vanished from her vocabulary when she tumbled down the slope of her climax. She sounded like she was terrified one moment, and then moaned long loud sobs of joy as she not only grabbed her orgasms, but wrung every drop of delirious feeling out of each one. He would always remember comparing her to the women he’d been with before, who pretended to have orgasms, or even managed to get to the pinnacle with him, but only shuddered quietly as they concentrated on their pleasure, while dismissing him completely.

And in that comparison he found a woman who was on fire with emotion, whose cries and sobs and moans were either real, or the stuff of Oscars. He would always believe she was not acting as she reached for him again and again, always asking for more.

But, he could not have told anyone the story of what happened that night. He could not have described how they made love, or what she said, or even what they talked about between the times they thrashed together, almost tearing the sheets in their passion. And, he could not have told anyone exactly how many times he pushed his rampant erection deep into his daughter and strained his muscles to push more of his cream into her womb.

He remembered being amazed at one point, a point long past what he thought he was capable of at his age. But that’s it.

She blew his mind, and he lost some of his thoughts in that emotional windstorm.

Brad was, indeed late getting to work, as Jasmine had predicted the night before. When he walked into Josh’s office he had a level of energy about him that Josh recognized from his own life.

“I trust things went ... well,” he said.

Brad just nodded. “Had a great time. Tell Julie thanks for me.”

“You can tell her yourself,” said Josh. “She informed me that we’re eating lunch together ... the three of us. It’s one of her traits I haven’t been able to break her of ... putting things on my schedule, I mean,” he said.

Brad frowned, and Josh thought that wasn’t a good thing, but Brad’s words didn’t match his face. “Don’t try to break her of that Josh. She’s doing you a bigger favor than you can imagine. She’s more important than your schedule. Well, most of the time anyway,” he added, the businessman in him rising to the top of the choppy surface that was a sea of competing emotions.